


body language

by fimbulvetr



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Bottom Yukishiro Azuma, M/M, Minor Knifeplay, Minor Mikage Hisoka/Yukishiro Azuma, Polyamory, Top Takatoo Tasuku, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 17:21:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19137235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fimbulvetr/pseuds/fimbulvetr
Summary: Set in @retiredstarmiya's Akikimi AU which is nice and wholesome. This fic is not.The queen likes a little … roughness, in other words. Displays of strength. Tasuku doesn’t really get it at first—his oath is one of protection, after all, so how could he manhandle someone so delicate, much less the man he’s sworn to protect with his life?





	body language

**Author's Note:**

> This might be confusing without a few explanations.
> 
> You can follow @retiredstarmiya's Akikimi (Royal AU) [here on Twitter](https://twitter.com/retiredstarmiya/status/1112031952037531650) for general entertainment and more context. The main pairing is Muku/Azami, with various other pairings like Guy/Chikage, Juza/Tenma, Banri/Tsumugi, and ofc Hisoka/Azuma/Tasuku.
> 
> You don't need to know all that to read this PWP, though you should if that sounds like a fun ride.
> 
> Cliff notes relevant to this fic:  
> △ There are four kingdoms ([see chart](https://twitter.com/retiredstarmiya/status/1135205234798555139))  
> △ Azuma became King of Winter after a terrible accident, and later chose to take the title of Queen  
> △ Hisoka and Azuma are in an established relationship, Tasuku is a recent addition to it

In the weeks after Mikage’s little ‘intervention’, the two decide it’s time to train Tasuku in the other ways to serve the queen. From Azuma, it’s all gentle suggestions, insinuations delivered in his rare low voice that sends a chill down Tasuku’s spine and a jolt straight to his—well.

From Mikage, it’s a little more direct.

“This is what the queen likes,” he whispers in Tasuku’s ear one day, out of nowhere, before shoving him hard against a wall. Not a lot of people can do that to someone of Tasuku’s stature and training, but Mikage’s choice in dark, loose clothing does more than hide him in the darkness; it hides the fact that his body isn’t just slim but lean with muscle.

The queen likes a little … roughness, in other words. Displays of strength. Tasuku doesn’t really get it at first—his oath is one of protection, after all, so how could he manhandle someone so delicate, much less the man he’s sworn to protect with his life?

“Azuma likes it against the wall,” Mikage says. “It’s tiring to lift him, so Tasuku should do it.”

 _Ah,_ Tasuku thinks. _It’s about laziness._

Mikage doesn’t bother to elaborate about either the wall or the lifting part, and that night he doesn’t show up in the royal bedchambers as usual, probably off on another one of Tsumugi’s errands.

 

The queen’s bed is surrounded in a frankly baffling shroud of flowing translucent fabric draping down from the high posts that frame the bed. It’s large, as befits a queen, but probably smaller than the average royal bed. Not that Tasuku’s been in any other monarch’s bedchambers to compare.

When the former queen and consort passed away, Azuma had apparently caused a fuss about the bedchambers. By his command, the entire royal wing was sealed off with strict instructions that no one was to set foot inside. The yet-to-be-crowned king would then move back into his childhood bedroom, which he’d shared with his elder brother, the late Crown Prince Hajime.

That wasn’t the first controversy Azuma started, and it wouldn’t be the last. How the new king came to be queen was another story—a better one at that.

Tasuku was just fifteen when they met for the first time, and he hadn’t a clue how to talk to nobility, to say nothing of the king of all Winter. They didn’t get along at first. They’d come from two different worlds, and neither had reason to trust the other. But years later, Azuma would trust Tasuku with his life, and that’s  _important._  There’s a difference between holding someone’s life in your hand, and that person handing it _to_ you. Years later, Azuma would be his queen, and Tasuku his knight.

“You’re thinking too hard about something, aren’t you?” hums a familiar, teasing voice, from somewhere behind the layers of sheer curtains. Tasuku’s attention is snapped back to the present situation, and he moves to lift the curtains aside.

The queen is sprawled casually on his side, looking thoroughly comfortable surrounded by cushions, and he’s wearing a nightgown. A chemise? Negligee? It’s about as thick as a single layer of the sheer curtain, which is to say not at all.

“You’ll catch cold like that, your majesty.”

“Then warm me up.”

Tasuku’s quite not sure how he used to miss these cues, to be honest. Maybe because Azuma’s voice _always_ sounds sultry. His knight brain almost starts forming some response like ‘Do you want more blankets’ but he’s already removing his uniform jacket and kneeling onto the bed, and by the smile on his queen’s face, that’s probably the right move.

Azuma has risen a little, propped up against some extravagantly large pillows. He lifts a long, pale foot and nudges—

“You’re still armed.”

—the hilt of Tasuku’s dagger, sheathed on the belt hung low about his waist.

“My apologies. I was hasty,” he says, though there’s another word for what he was.

“Fufu, well, we could still find some use for a blade.”

The queen brushes his hand down the front of his nightgown, which upon closer look is more intricate than Tasuku had given it credit for. A laced braid of ribbon stretches from Azuma’s collar to just below his stomach, and from here Tasuku can see the white lace of the undergarments beneath the grey-blue gown.

His eyes must linger there, at the hint of lace between Azuma’s thighs, because the queen crosses one leg over the other. “Can you cut off the negligee without cutting skin, I wonder?”

Azuma’s got a look in his eyes, like a predatory animal staring down a would-be attacker. Tasuku’s only seen something like it a few times in his life—in illegal gambling lounges where the currency is more exotic than gold, in high risk card deals held in the basements of shady saloons, in the faces of men holding an unbeatable hand moments before claiming victory. The Queen of Winter has gambler’s eyes.

“I swore an oath to protect you, your majesty,” Tasuku reminds him, but the words sound distant, as if someone else is saying them. He can’t tear his eyes away, can’t shake the need to take him up on the challenge even though he knows full well he’s being goaded.

“Do you intend to hurt me, Tasuku?”

“I don’t.”

“And I don’t think you can,” Azuma replies, not challenging him. “But if you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. ‘Cut my clothes off,’ isn’t a royal decree.” He softens the last part with a laugh.

Tasuku slides the hilt out just a little, exposing the blade. The sound of the metal unsheathing is metallic, sharp, and it’s in contrast to the surroundings—the bed, the curtains, the whole room. This inch of steel in amongst all the gauzy hazy soft stuff is as out of place as Tasuku himself.

He looks down at the weapon, uncertain.

“Is it the sort of thing you and Mikage…?”

Azuma pauses, then sighs, his posture slackening.

“Did Hisoka say something to you?”

“Not exactly. He said…” Tasuku clears his throat. “He said you ‘like it’ against the wall.”

Azuma laughs at that, covering his mouth with his hand, about as close to embarrassment as Tasuku’s ever seen from him. Then he comes closer, crawling on his knees to get closer until they’re practically chest to chest. He brushes his hand against Tasuku’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” Azuma says, now not a trace of artifice in his voice or his eyes. “I was wrong to try to treat you like I treat him. Hisoka is Hisoka, and Tasuku is Tasuku.” He pauses, looking down. “I must apologise on Hisoka’s behalf as well. He’s—we’re new to this.”

Those words lift the weight from Tasuku’s chest somewhat. That little sliver of jealousy, the uncertainty of barging into a relationship that has existed just fine without him, of being the only one who’s still just fumbling into a thing he doesn’t know how to define. But Tasuku doesn’t know how to express that much in words, so he just leans down and catches Azuma’s lips in a kiss.

They break apart slowly, still so close their foreheads are almost touching.

“But what if I think I do want to cut this off you?” he mutters, slipping his hand down to tug at the ribbons lacing the nightgown.

“Then you’d better make haste, or I will make it an order.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Tasuku answers, ever the dutiful knight. He places his palm against Azuma’s chest and pushes gently so that he knows he wants him on his back. Azuma takes the cue without hesitation, laying down, so vulnerable in his sheer gown, his hair like quicksilver pooling around him. He’s so pale, so exposed, so completely trusting it’s almost worrying. It hadn’t been that long ago that Tasuku himself had walked in on a scene similar to this and thought the worst.

But now he’s here, knees either side of his queen’s hips, with a knife in his hand.

Just as Azuma opens his mouth, no doubt to accuse Tasuku of stalling, he lowers the blade. The queen’s breath hitches as Tasuku drags the edge of the knife along the twist of ribbon closest to the collar.

A regular sword might have imperfections, chips, something for the material to catch on, but this knife is a ceremonial piece, a symbol of his allegiance to the Winter Throne, and he keeps it as sharp as the day he received it.

Needless to say, it cuts clean through. He nudges the blade further down, careful not to touch skin with the edge, and works at another link of ribbon. Azuma’s hand drifts up to rest against his stomach, fingers drumming lightly not inches away from the blade. When Tasuku glances up, he’s watching him, eyes half-lidded, lips slightly parted. _Erotic_.

“—Why wear something so complicated to sleep in the first place,” Tasuku grumbles aloud.

“Who said it was for sleep?” It's obvious just by his voice that Azuma is grinning.

The blade cuts through the ribbons fine—eventually. Tasuku’s pretty sure there’s an easier way to get through, though. He sheathes the knife into its scabbard. Now, using just his hand, he grabs a stray ribbon and pulls. It doesn’t come loose. In fact, it seems to get it tighter. Irritated, he tries again, pulling even harder, again to no avail.

“Is my captain of the guard losing to lingerie?” Azuma comments, on his back and perfectly still, undoubtedly enjoying himself.

Tasuku looks annoyed. “I can’t exactly tear it to pieces, your majesty. It’s your … negligee.”

“Fufu. I’ve negligees to spare, though? And only one Tasuku.”

 _That_ seems to do it for him, flipping the switch between reason and desire.

Tasuku leans over to catch the queen’s lips in a rough kiss, which Azuma returns enthusiastically. Then, he unsheathes the knife and makes quick work of the beautiful fabric, until there’s nothing left but the ribbons.

And when the ribbons are tossed aside, the negligee is in pieces, and finally the queen is on the bed in nothing but his lingerie. The bodice is a peachy, sheer silk, with purple camellias embroidered everywhere. It’s been carefully tailored to suit Azuma’s chest, or relative lack thereof, and the effect is … flawless. The underwear, all peachy silk and dashes of lace, is just as sheer as the bodice. It hides little, like the fact that the queen is half hard already, straining against the pretty lace.

Tasuku sheathes the blade, then gets rid of his sword belt altogether, tossing it to the floor with no small satisfaction. Azuma sits up, with curiosity and hunger in his eyes.

Tasuku reaches over and, with some awkwardness but little effort, swoops the queen up into his arms. It’s the way Mikage likes to be carried, though Mikage calls it a ‘princess carry’ where this is more fit for a queen.

“Oh my.” His arms lift and his fingers entwine at the back of Tasuku’s neck. “Where are you taking me?”

Tasuku only grunts in response. He takes him to the only unadorned wall of the room. It’s solid brick, and it’s at the very back of the bedchambers. He knows it’s the only blind spot for anyone entering the room—from both the door and the window. When Tasuku sets him down, he wastes no time in slamming his fist straight past Azuma’s startled face, into the wall, leaning down to give what is a hopefully forceful look.

“Take off your underwear,” he demands.

Azuma’s startled look changes to that of a cat that’s just gotten exactly what it wanted.

“You don’t want to take it off me?” Even as he says that, he hooks a long slender finger in the band of the panties.

That’s tempting. That’s very tempting. But Tasuku knows it’s a bluff. What he’s meant to say is…

“No. Take it off yourself.”

The way Azuma’s cock twitches from behind the scant bit of lace shows that Tasuku’s on the right track. After a moment, Azuma slides the panties down just far enough to meet his stockings, freeing his hard, flushed cock in the process.

There are two people on the planet who get to see the proud, dauntless Queen of Winter in such a wanton state, and of the two, it’s Tasuku who’s here right now, and it’s Tasuku who gets to say, “Now turn around.”

Azuma makes a delicate little half laugh, half gasp, making no attempt to hide his amusement, and he obeys. Without prompting, he braces his hands against the wall, sticking out his bare ass, and looks back over his shoulder expectantly.

Tasuku glides his hands over the flesh the panties would have covered moments ago, and, feeling like a pervert, parts Azuma’s cheeks to—get a better look, so to speak. He places a finger up against his hole, pressing ever so slightly, expecting resistance, but it’s… slick.

“Fufu. Surprised? I prepared while I was waiting for you.”

_Of course he did._

He wastes no time in that case, pushing two fingers in with ease, earning him a low moan. That’s not enough for him, though, nor is it enough for Azuma. He gives it a few more thrusts with his fingers, scissoring them inside, and then pulls them out a few moments later. Azuma lets out a disgruntled gasp at the loss.

Tasuku turns him back around, and Azuma goes in for a quick, ‘hurry up’ kiss.

“—I don’t know how Mikage does it, but it may be tricky.”

Azuma smiles. “Well, why don’t you do your best, and I’ll grade your work afterwards?”

So, Tasuku does just that. He unfastens his trousers, enough that he’s out, and crowds Azuma even closer to the wall. Then he lifts him off the ground by the waist, not like the ‘queen carry’ from before, and once Azuma’s legs wrap around him tight, he’s able to slide his cock into the queen’s ass while his hands make sure he’s holding the weight of it.

_‘The queen likes it against the wall,’ huh? Easier said than done._

He begins moving in earnest, harder, _rougher_ than normal, and Azuma likes it, likes to prove he’s so much more than people think of him, though he’s never had anything to prove to Tasuku. Not now, and never again.

Tasuku slams into him, moves in close enough just to place kisses on his necks, and Azuma’s legs tighten around him. He keeps going, his grip on Azuma’s ass hard enough that there will be purple, angry bruises on the queen’s ass cheeks the next day, should anyone have the privilege of seeing.

Their bodies are so close now, every movement an obscene slap of flesh on flesh, and finally Azuma comes with a moan of “ _Tasuku_ ,” his come spilling between both their stomachs and all over the pretty lingerie.

Tasuku holds him there for a while longer, fucks him through the post-orgasmic sensitivity, until he, too, comes as he’s halfway pulled out. Another mess.

They head back to the bed, Azuma’s legs still wobbly, some of Tasuku’s come still sliding down his inner thigh. Then they collapse, side by side, with Azuma drawing closer to rest against his captain’s arm.

“Nine and a half out of ten,” Azuma says, sternly, after a moment. “Half a point off for pulling out, and your punishment is to assist me in the baths.”

Then he smiles, tired and completely genuine.

“I think we mesh quite well, Guard Captain.”

“… I think so too, your majesty.”

**Author's Note:**

> Big big thanks to Sof, Carp, Kai, Lia, Dita, literally everyone in Mankai Eccentrics for letting me be like this.
> 
> If you're intrigued by the idea of ChikaGuy please read Carp's fic [An Even Match](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18851239), set in the same universe.
> 
> I'm [@veludoway](https://twitter.com/veludoway) and that's the big picture.
> 
> If you like my fics at all I'd be really grateful if you could [buy me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/piyos).


End file.
